Dogs of War
by Northwest Sage
Summary: Roadbuster is an Autobot with nothing left to lose, and a very big gun. WAR TRILOGY Part 2...
1. Has Anyone Seen?

_This is my follow-up to "A Private Little War"... Here it goes._

**DOGS OF WAR**

The situation on Cybertron has changed little over the past half stellar-cycle. Energy remains in great demand with little supply. The peace treaty that ended the Autobot and Decepticon conflict is still intact, but not even the dimmest of minds holds much faith in its continuing effect. Splinter groups of former Decepticons have began forming at an alarming rate. To counter the growing threat, several warriors that once wore the Autobot symbol have formed interceptor squads of their own. The violent confrontations have led to a massive exodus, leaving Cybertron little more than a combat zone with a handful of still-standing political offices. Those souls who have remained are dedicated to the eradication of their opponents.

Another situation that has changed little is the mission Roadbuster finds himself on. It is a mission built on the memories of fallen friends and fuelled by a burning thirst for revenge. The impressive and feared group of Pretender Monsters, led by insane combat artist Slog, had killed several of Roadbuster's friends on the planet Dag. Roadbuster himself had survived the ordeal and managed to escape the landing party led by the Autobot Thunderclash. The crew of Primus Flame II had overseen the recovery of Dag and also obtained the fallen and injured Autobots left in its wake.

Returning to Cybertron, Thunderclash informed Ultra Magnus of Roadbuster's situation, that being he was unable to be located and was presumed dead. The weary commander took one quick look in Thunderclash's optics, and with countless decades of experience behind him, knew immediately that while Thunderclash wasn't lying; he also wasn't totally convinced it was the truth. After some time to rest and recover, Magnus again sent Thunderclash and his crew out on another recovery mission. They were to locate and secure Roadbuster for proper questioning and medical evaluation. With mixed convictions and divided loyalties, Thunderclash and his motley crew departed Cybertron intent on completing their latest mission. They did so in a new ship, as Primus Flame II had been deemed outdated and was forced into decommission.

Roadbuster was a legend in the Autobot ranks, and something of a vigilante with an unnatural ability to adapt to any and all combat situations. His life now consisted of hunting down the monsters that slain his best friend Whirl, as well as took the lives of Bluestreak, Bumblebee, and Windcharger. Wheeljack and Trailbreaker had also, like Roadbuster, survived the onslaught on Planet Dag, but would forever suffer from the ordeal. Despite being a very capable soldier, even in his hate-filled mind he realized there was no way he could stand up to Slog and his followers on his own. All the Pretender Monsters would have to do would be to combine into the giant known as Monstructor and the fight would be over. There wasn't a single Transformer that could stand up to the hellish might of that particular combiner, as the late Roadblock could more than attest to… if he were still alive.

So it was in a broken down ship, sized for three but able to hold five, that Roadbuster searched the galaxy for clues to Slog's whereabouts. And also, just as important, he searched for friends.

* * *

Thunderclash sat in his captain's chair and tried hard not to look bored in front of his senior crew. Once upon a time, he had led a group of Autobots known as TurboMasters in and out of missions that would send weaker warriors falling to their knees in terror. Now, six months floating through space looking for a renegade Autobot who some consider a hero was his lot in life. It was a mission of the worst kind, one that bred indifference and even hints of resentment towards those in a higher position. The crew had similar feelings towards their captain, and their captain felt the same way towards his commander; in this instance being Ultra Magnus. But Thunderclash was a warrior and he believed in the value of giving and following orders, so he tried desperately to mask his irritation at the lack of action and his doubts as to the merits of the search. "Full sensors sweep, sector 3."

The longest tenured member of the command crew, Chromia, did as requested. Aboard the new ship, her communications console also contained short and long-range scanners. "Scanning now," she replied. Her results were returned almost immediately. "Big shocker... nothing." She was always quick and to the point, never bothering to hide her true feelings. "Wait, wait," she called out, suddenly becoming very animated with her movements. "Nope," she said with a tone thick with annoyance. "Still nothing." Having known Thunderclash as long as she had gave her some latitude in the way she spoke to her commander.

The comedic performance earned a burst of laughter from ship's gunner and former Decepticon, Nightracer. Usually too busy complaining about various mishaps or spouting off meaningless rants about unfounded conspiracies, her reaction caught all aboard the bridge off guard. Even the 'duty-first' Clamp Down, chief of security, felt a smile sneak onto his face, before quickly returning to a state of non-emotion.

"Okay," Thunderclash sighed. "I realize this mission isn't what we're used to." He sympathized with how his crew felt. "But we are not here to ask why, we are here only to do what is asked." A quick flip of a switch located to his right opened up a communications channel directly to engineering. "How's our fuel doing?"

A misleadingly soft voice responded. "We have sufficient supply for another seven days, then we'll either need to restock or start rowing." Roulette was one of the best when it came to driving a ship and even better when it came to lining up the cross-hairs in combat situations. One of the improvements of the new ship over Primus Flame II was the fact that engineering was on a lower deck than the main bridge, allowing her to escape the constant urge of blowing a hole in fellow crew-member Nightracer. Despite having never encountered any sort of problem, Roulette simply couldn't accept the fact that Nightracer was once a member of the Decepticon Army. Truth be told, Nightracer didn't care much for her either.

"Six months," Thunderclash muttered. "Six months and not a sign of Roadbuster's whereabouts and yet," his head cocked back in a showing of restlessness, "We've yet to receive any orders terminating this mission." His battle of keeping his frustration in check was starting to be lost. "If we don't hear something in the next two days, we're turning this bad boy around and heading back to Cybertron. I don't care what Ultra Magnus..." His voice was cut off by a genuinely surprised communications officer.

"I don't believe it," Chromia admitted, double checking her recent findings before turning around to face her commander. "We've located him."


	2. The Diaclone

**CHAPTER TWO**

It was a darkened place, one full of nomads and warriors without wars. Far from the elegance that earned Macadam's Oil House the nickname of "prettiest hell hole in the universe", Roadbuster found himself along the far wall of "The Diaclone". It served low-grade energon and other thirst quenching liquids, but it was out of the way and not many solar marshals visited the place. A strong combination of blood, oil, and burnt-out laser packs engulfed the establishment, adding yet another layer of atmosphere to the joint. First time patrons often remarked that it smelled like 'rotting dreams'.

Roadbuster had been at "The Diaclone" for nearly an hour, nursing a single serving of energon and silently planning his next move. His optics kept a careful watch over the company he was keeping, both to protect himself from a bored assassin and so as not to miss the passing by of an old friend. A table for three found a trio of warriors from the planet Beest playing some form of cards best resembling poker. Knight Owl had an obvious advantage over the other two if his stack of "chips" were any indication as to how the game was unfolding. Major Moose and War Weasel looked less than enthusiastic.

The skinny mechanoid known as Pokerface was attempting to weasel out of paying a handsome prize to some lucky aquatic-looking alien. The former casino owner had been on the run for several years, leaving the Limbo Galaxy and the intergalactic police force known as The Silverhawks far behind him. His sniveling and conniving behavior followed him to his new place of employment. Amidst a respectable gathering of Renegades and Guardians, Roadbuster spotted the somewhat primitive-in-design looking Maxx Steele. Steele had been the only member of Robo Force known to still be alive.

"Well, look who the 'ell showed up here!" Roadbuster quickly turned around him, his left hand reaching for his blaster and his right hand ready to reach out and grab the speaker around the throat. He quickly recognized his guest and allowed himself to calm down.

"You shouldn't sneak up on somebody like me," he said sternly. "I could've killed you."

Outback started laughing and took a seat for himself. "Coulda, shoulda," he joked. "I hear you're quite popular these days, mate." Outback was a unique being known and respected by all who knew his name. Equal parts funny and cunning, crazy and genius, he had lived the days following the Autobot/Decepticon Peace Treaty as a treasure hunter. There were rumors some of the treasures he hunted were alive and had a bounty above their heads, but rumors were like the coldness in the vastness of space. Everywhere.

"News travels fast amongst the fallen," Roadbuster mused as Outback kicked his feet up onto the table.

"Something like that," Outback smiled. He got the attention of a server and waved him over, quickly ordering some energon for himself. "They're saying you've gone rogue. Saying you're hunting down the likes of Slog along with his cog-and-balls followers."

Roadbuster wasn't very amused but appreciated the company an old ally provided. "Who's _they_?"

"_They_ are _them _that are after you." Outback paused and looked across towards his much larger friend and contemplated the odd arrangement of words he had just spoken. He erupted in laughter. "Been a long day mate," he chuckled. "Thunderclash and his goons are trying to pick you up for questioning and... how was it put? Oh yes, a _medical evaluation_."

"It's been six months," Roadbuster stated. "I'm pretty sure if I needed medical attention, I'd have gone off-line by now." The burly commando shrugged and raised his energon drink and finished it off. "He's just following orders."

Outback took a mighty gulp of his drink and threw his arm up signaling for another. "I also hear you're looking to put together a team, some sort of attack force for when you finally catch up with Slog."

"You hear a lot," Roadbuster replied.

"Aye mate, that I do. That I do."

* * *

"I strongly disagree with you going down there," Clamp Down stated, knowing that despite his concerns Thunderclash would insist on leading the away-team. "Treaty or no treaty, a place like this doesn't follow any political proclamations; you'll be walking in there with a big bulls-eye on your chest."

"Roadbuster is from the old-school and if any one of us has a chance of bringing him in peacefully, it's me." The commander double checked his weapon and ran a quick self-diagnostic test. "Besides, I'm taking Roulette and Nightracer in there with me. They'll provide all the back up needed." Indeed, one would be hard pressed to find two finer gunners. At the same time, however, one would also be hard pressed to find two allies who held as much disdain for each other.

That fact was not lost on Clamp Down, who's primary concern aside from the security of the ship was the safety of its captain. "Perhaps I could accompany you instead. Less chance of... cat-fighting." It was a term that humans used to describe two warring females of their species and although the physical traits are not evident, it is in actuality a fitting phrase. "No offense," he added as an afterthought once Nightracer started glaring in his direction.

"None taken," she replied. Silently, she amused herself by describing Clamp Down as the bastard offspring from Autobots Red Alert and Sideswipe. An impossible happening, but the thought was rather humorous. Besides, if she was going to have to work side by side with Roulette, she was going to take all the laughs she could find.

Thunderclash contacted Roulette and informed her of the mission, instructing her to meet him and Nightracer in the docking bay. Hopefully everything would go smoothly and there would be no incident. But Thunderclash had walked this road long enough to realize that nothing is ever guaranteed, especially when it comes to a peaceful apprehension. "Chromia," he called out as he and Nightracer began their exit, "You have the bridge."


	3. Two Steps Behind

**CHAPTER THREE**

Upon entering The Diaclone, Thunderclash and his companions immediately felt each and every set of eyes and optics fall upon them. It was as though time itself had come to a screeching halt, as every hand of poker and every rising of the glass were halted. "Let's make this quick," Thunderclash stated quietly. "I don't feel like starting a riot, especially when we're this outnumbered."

The trio scanned the area and despite having been informed that Roadbuster was in the establishment, their target was nowhere in sight. Amidst the countless drunkards and thieves one particular form caught the attention of Roulette. "I bet he might know a thing or two where our friend went," she spoke, casting a quick nod in Outback's direction.

Slowly the noise and commotion that had been pulsating throughout the building returned, the sudden interest in the three newcomers faded without incident. "Haven't seen you in a while," Thunderclash said, greeting Outback and taking the very seat Roadbuster had sat in only moments ago. Roulette and Nightracer stood at attention with their weapons armed and ready. "I was hoping you might be able to help me out."

Outback wasn't particularly fond of the way things had progressed for his former Autobot brothers, and blamed the majority of their problems at the feet of Ultra Magnus. The current state of Cybertron and its looming expiration, as well as the tense and forced alliance between former Autobots and Decepticons were prime examples of what irritated the outspoken warrior. "I don't think so."

"You don't even know what I'm going to ask," Thunderclash responded. "It might be worth your while."

Roulette and Nightracer closed the gap between themselves and their commander. The lights above the table reflected off their firearms as Thunderclash waved off an approaching server. Outback caught on to their silent attempt of intimidation and almost laughed out loud. "You still working for Magnus and his 'holy communion' of slag suckers?"

"Where's Roadbuster?" Thunderclash asked with authority. "We know he's here. So why don't you do yourself and your fellow brothers a favor and tell me where he is."

Outback leaned forward and placed both of his hands, now fisted, on either side of his nearly empty energon drink. "Me and my brothers?" he asked, his voice simmering with resentment and surprised anger. "Listen to this, mate," he continued, his optics locked on to the much larger Autobot. "You remember when this meant something?" he asked, pointing to the red emblem that represented the Autobot faction. "Remember before we were all forced to happily co-exist because of that damn truce? The truce that nobody, and I do mean _nobody_, takes seriously or obeys... the truce that only exists to give people like Ultra Magnus and Soudwave and the lackeys that follow them... a sense of being important... lackeys like you and these two jokers you have standing next to you!"

Roulette was first to respond, raising her weapon with blinding speed and pointing it directly at Outback's chest. Nightracer followed suit and silently begged for a reason to pull the trigger. "This joker is about to blow your head off," Roulette spat.

Thunderclash put his arm out and lowered her rifle and instructed Roulette to stand down as well. "There's no need for a confrontation," he calmly stated. "I'm sorry if I offended you, Outback. That wasn't my intent." He stood from his seat and started to make his way towards the exit. He stopped and slowly turned once again towards Outback. "Times have changed," he explained. "The treaty might be a joke to you and to others, but it exists and it's real. The war of old is over and it's time we all accepted that this is a different world we live in now. A world with new allies and new enemies."

He instructed Roulette and Nightracer to remain where they were, and then stepped closer to Outback. "Roadbuster is my friend too, Outback. But I have my orders to bring him in for questioning and a medical evaluation... we lost several good warriors on Planet Dag and we need to know what happened and who was responsible. Those who didn't die are broken..." his voice trailed off until it was completely silent. It was several moments before he continued. "Broken and lost in their own minds. All except for Roadbuster."

Outback recalled his brief conversation with Roadbuster prior to the arrival of Thunderclash and his crew mates. The tone in his voice and the shadows that hovered within his optics sent a chill through Outback's circuitry. Despite showing no concern at the time and masking his own feelings of anxiety with lame attempts at humor, he feared that Roadbuster had crossed the fine line between revenge and madness. "I wouldn't be too sure about that," he admitted. "When you find him, you might discover that he's the most broken one of all."

* * *

As Roadbuster resumed his journey, he found himself a little better off than prior to his stop at The Diaclone. For starters, Outback loaned him a personal cloaking device, allowing him to not only exit the premises undetected, but the device lent its benefits to his spacecraft as well. Spotting the size of Thunderclash's new ship, he let out a sigh of relief knowing his little flying saucer wouldn't have stood a chance had combat erupted.

Outback also relayed some very useful information via a compact data recorder. The names and locations of several soldiers likely to join forces with Roadbuster had been highlighted, as well as the last known location of Slog and his followers. He knew the information hadn't been easy to come by, and reasoned Outback had been compiling the information for quite some time. Roadbuster wondered if Outback somehow expected to run in to him, or perhaps the hardened adventurer had been planning a mission of some sort for himself. Regardless of the hows and whys, Roadbuster's map to revenge had just been updated with several points of interest.

"No luck?" Chromia asked after noticing the absence of a particular burly green commando. "I'm telling you, our sensors pegged him dead-on and then he just vanished; I assumed you had to subdue him with a dampening field or something."

"Transformers don't just vanish," Clamp Down stated.

As Roulette and Nightracer discussed what had just transpired and compared creative ways they could have used to take Outback offline, Thunderclash calmly took his place in the captain's chair and assumed a relaxed stance. "No, they don't," he agreed. "Scan the immediate area for any particle anomalies, no matter how faint or radical." Chromia quickly initiated a scan.

"A cloaking device?" Clamp Down asked in a hushed tone as he hovered by his captain's side.

"We're about to find out," Thunderclash answered.

"Got 'em," Chromia said excitedly. "Faint doesn't begin to describe how weak they are, but there's a definite pattern and trail."

"Bingo," Thunderclash replied. "Lock on to the pattern and pursue at an undetectable distance." He turned and looked up at Clamp Down, who had a hesitant smile across his faceplate. "We're going for a little ride."


	4. A Gathering of Friends

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Roadbuster approached the dwelling cautiously, his war-ravaged mind refusing to accept any situation as safe and without danger. His current stop was one planned weeks ago, and the fact it was also included in Outback's data device cemented this coming exchange to be favorable. An initial contact had been sent and received via secured channels seven days ago. Nearing the front door of the shoddy structure, a pair of Lomens startled him, a sort of alien dog somewhat resembling a miniature rhinoceros. Their distinct yelps prompted the door to be jerked open violently, and the first thing seen was the end of a disruptor rifle. "State your business or I'll kill you where you stand."

Roadbuster held his ground despite the less than warm reception. "I've come to meet with Carnivac. I was told he was staying here."

The mechanoid held her weapon steady when replying. "He's gone." She was missing several panels on her body, showing worn wires and rusted joints to all who gazed upon her form.

"Gone?" Roadbuster asked, somewhat confused. "Gone where?"

"Gone." Short and to the point.

He was certain this was the location they were to meet at. Something didn't seem right. "Listen, I'm a friend of his. He told me to meet him here." The mech's unbroken silence and penetrating stare began to shower Roadbuster with great unease. Perhaps the mech didn't believe him, or maybe she was just testing the waters and protecting her mate. Roadbuster didn't know and truth be told didn't care a hell of a whole lot either. He was running out of time and that was something he couldn't allow. In a last ditch effort, he began rambling off semi-classified and personal information as a way to prove he truly was a friend and his visit was genuine.

"My name is Roadbuster," he stated sternly. "I served with Carnivac in a team known as The Wreckers... he hates the Mayhem Attack Squad, Bludgeon in particular, for the murder of his long time ally, Catilla... on a mission to Charr, he and team commander Springer defeated the Predacons by..."

The mech suddenly turned away, causing Roadbuster to grow silent. Maybe he had finally broken through and made his reluctant host realize he spoke the truth. He waited for several moments and began to question whether or not she would return. She re-emerged, her weapon lowered to her side and with an item looking eerily familiar. She threw the object at Roadbuster's feet. Bending over to retrieve it, he felt a burning surge erupt through his body as he identified the mangled and melted piece. It was the remains of an arm, destroyed by what seemed to be an acid of some sort. Exposed wiring at its base gave away the fact it had literally been pulled away from the torso. A small Cybertronian symbol inside what was left of the palm indicated this being was once a Wrecker. This belonged to Carnivac.

"He knew you were coming," the mech began, her voice rich with sadness and anger. "He was afraid to let you down, to be something less than the warrior he once was." The memory was fresh as the pain still tore through her mind. "I found him in an acid pit; he could no longer keep the pain silent and I heard his screams." Her optics dimmed as she finished. "I reached for him, but it was too late-the damage had been done." She pointed at the dead limb Roadbuster held in his hands. "That's all I could save."

Roadbuster was without words. This was not expected; there was nothing in Carnivac's file that gave any hints he could be susceptible to self-termination. Trying to remain in control of his emotions, which included a hefty dose of guilt, he quietly apologized for the intrusion and walked away.

"I thought the war was over," the mech shouted after him. "Isn't it? Isn't it over?" She fired off one more verbal assault before being out of hearing range. "How many more will go the way of Carnivac? I know who you are, Roadbuster, I could smell you coming!" Each word held more rage than the last. "Let it end, damn you! Let it end!"

* * *

"Status?" Thunderclash asked.

"We still have him," Chromia responded. "His current trajectory shows him heading towards the desolate planet known as Hoofum." The Autobot with the delicate form ran her fingers along the console, quickly hitting various keys in a specific manner. Seconds later, further information was on her view screen. "No known populace," she continued. "Very little atmosphere, no apparent signs of life."

Thunderclash nodded. "A perfect place for evil to set up shop," he sighed. "Roadbuster's determined to take them down, that's for sure. I only hope there's enough of him left for us to recover and take back with us to Cybertron. Knowing him, there very well may not be."

"He's a fool if you ask me," Nightracer interjected. "Anyone who willingly hunts down Slog and his Pretender Monsters, on his own no less, is on a suicide mission and deserves to die for being stupid."

"Nobody asked you," Clamp Down shot back. The heroic law enforcer and symbol of protection aboard the ship disagreed with the selection of words his fellow crew member chose, but he also held the same opinion. "Roadbuster is one of the toughest, most determined soldiers I've ever known." He turned to Thunderclash and offered an annoyed look, casting a quick nod towards Nightracer.

"Besides," Chromia added, "Who said he was doing it alone?"

* * *

Roadbuster kept his optics on the view screen in front of him, not trusting anyone else to fly the ship that was to lead him to salvation. Many of those he had hoped to join were unable to be located. Some due to being on missions of their own, some due to simply not wanting to be found, and others still turned up dead upon being located. But it was not a total loss, and with them due to arrive on Hoofum in 23 hours, those few warriors that had joined his quest were motionless and silent as they partook in the ship's regeneration chambers.

His motley crew consisted of two faction leaders who had recently found themselves without a faction to lead. Former leader of the Junkions, Wreck-Gar, was the first to eagerly accept Roadbuster's invitation. His entire planet had been eradicated by a level-10 core meltdown. Little evidence could be attained but what was discovered is that a magnetic burst-bomb had been purposely detonated below the planet's surface, and that was what led to the meltdown. The attack was unprovoked and there was no indication as to who was behind the hideous event, but Wreck-Gar swore it to be by Decepticon hand.

The other former leader was the burly and combat-loving Grimlock, once the stoic and heralded commander of the Dinobots. Now, as his body was finally starting to show signs of wear and tear from millions of years of intense war confrontations, he found himself to be virtually alone. Once, he led a pack of soldiers into death's domain and ripped victory from its icy hand. But that seemed like such a long time ago. The peace treaty did not sit well with Grimlock, and the new alliance did not exactly try to extend an olive branch in his direction. So he formally resigned from the Autobot ranks and led his faithful Dinobots on random missions of both mercy and military persuasion. However the last mission did not go as planned and there were casualties. Many. Grimlock was the only survivor.

The third and final soldier to join up with Roadbuster was Pipes, a rather small and unimposing Autobot warrior who simply loved to fight. He also had a rather odd yet endearing hobby of collecting random gadgets from all the planets he had visited. His favorites came from Earth, as he could often be found admiring a musical wristwatch a human once gave him as a gift. The young woman had programmed a simple, yet faithful rendition of Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train" into its memory. So each and every hour that small, insignificant piece of human technology would erupt in a weak and distant tune led off by the words 'All aboard!' followed by what was supposedly a guitar riff. Pipes didn't carry any emotional baggage or consider himself in need of redemption. He simply saw the opportunity to fight and he gladly took it.


	5. Goodbye, Cybertron

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Hoofum had once been a fairly attractive destination in the universe. Much like Earth and Nebulos, grand canyons and majestic mountains decorated its landscape. But its inhabitants soon realized a technological awakening, which spawned not only ways to improve their way of life, but also powerful weapons capable of wide reaching destruction. In the end, they proved to be their own worst enemy and annihilated their entire race. The canyons were filled with the debris of crumbling mountains. Two million years have since passed and Hoofum is now little more than a floating desert in space.

"There is a certain beauty in the dust of old bones," Slog stated while performing the finishing touches on his latest masterpiece. Three days ago a small scout-sized ship had landed on Hoofum with the intention of collecting soil samples. Within minutes of exiting their ship, the Pretender Monsters arrived on the scene and brought hell with them. All five members of the exploratory crew were killed.

"Is that another one of those fraggin' sayings the squishes use?" Bristleback roared, referring to the inhabitants of Earth. "Why don't you quote something from your own kind? Something intelligent and profound?"

"Come now, Bristleback," Slog soothingly spoke. "You know very well how I hate to quote myself." With a mighty tug, Slog ripped the left leg off of the dead ship captain. The sound of bone cracking and flesh ripping brought a perverse pleasure to the audio receivers of both Monsters. Splitting the larger portion of the leg down the middle, he watched as the slabs of skin fell over like the peel of a banana. With a quick firing of his laser scalpel, he burned the grotesque limb until it was dark and cracking. He then draped it over the shoulders of the corpse and mounted it on his trophy wall. "I think I'll call it, -Getting a Leg Up-."

Bristleback wasn't amused. "I'm growing tired of wasting my energy on the unworthy. I need something I can really sink my teeth into." The warrior trained primarily in the field of ground assault thought back to days of old, when the Great War between Autobots and Decepticons was in full effect. "Metal munching metal, the way Primus intended it to be."

Slog cast an amused look at his ill-tempered comrade. "I highly doubt that particular piece of philosophy can be attributed to Primus." Leaving his misinformed ally and wall of death behind him, the commander retook his place in the central command chamber. Located directly in the middle of their current base of operations, it was the most secure location in the event of an attack.

A large assemblage of monitors allowed him to keep an eye on the entire planet at one time. His optics observed Birdbrain and Wildfly performing routine combat drills in the Alpha sector, and demolitions expert Icepick was witnessed unearthing a fresh supply of raw energon in the Delta sector.

Slog was quickly startled by the unaccounted for Scowl. The metallic whir in his voice was unique to the point of being haunting. "We have incoming," Scowl announced.

"I see no signs of any ships on our computers," Slog replied back.

Scowl was equipped with supersonic hearing and could detect the faintest of sounds at immeasurable distances. "Trust me, we've got company heading our way."

"Perhaps our friends are... cloaked, as to avoid being detected?" Slog correctly reasoned. "Lucky for us, one can't cloak sound." At that moment Bristleback entered into the picture. "What was it you said earlier?" Slog asked. "Metal crunching metal?"

"Yeah," a confused Bristleback answered. "That's what I said. Why?"

Slog patted Scowl on the shoulder for a job well done. "Because I'm thinking you might be about to get a meal."

_

* * *

_

On the Transformers Homeworld...

"Cybertron is dying," Perceptor informed Ultra Magnus via radio communication. "Vector Sigma is no longer functioning."

The Autobot leader had feared this day for as long as he could remember. The signs had been there for millions of years. Both Autobots and Decepticons either had to change the way things were done or fade away in time. With the latest report from Autobot scientist Perceptor, it would seem time had finally ran out. "I won't ask you if you're certain," he stated, "Because I know you are. How much time do we have left?"

The signal was weak due to the extreme amounts of electrical discharge present in the area. A recent string of faction-wars had broken out, taking down even more buildings and destroying yet another hefty percentage of what few energy processors remained. "I'm afraid not much," Perceptor answered. "I've already alerted the Decepticon scientists..."

"There are no Decepticon scientists, Perceptor," Ultra Magnus quickly corrected the mistaken Autobot, "There are no more Decepticons-period." Why, even in the face of total defeat he held tight to the terms of the peace treaty was nearly enough to frazzle the usually calm and collected Perceptor.

"Regardless of the proper term," Perceptor quickly responded, "I have sent out the information through what proper channels remain. It is my recommendation that we initiate an immediate and planet-wide evacuation. If all goes smoothly, we should be able to accomplish this within a week's time."

Ultra Magnus began pacing in his darkened office. On the wall behind his desk, a replica of the Creation Matrix sat upon an ivory shelf. To its left, the original charter from The Ark written in ancient Cybertronian. On its right, a faded photograph of Daniel Witwicky. It was taken on his tenth birthday so many years ago. The young boy had formed a strong bond with the burly then-city commander and viewed him as a sort of robotic-uncle. And although he never liked showing emotion for fear of it representing weakness, Magnus looked back on him with genuine love, as any family member would have for another. "Do you think that's enough time?"

There was a pause for a moment, followed by loud crackles and pops before Perceptor's voice was finally heard again. "Yes. The population of Cybertron has diminished greatly." The energy shortage and the breakout of gang-related violence had literally filled the decayed streets with rotting corpses and broken souls. "Those who are still functioning and capable of understanding the situation can be relocated relatively easily. Those who refuse to leave or lay down their guns, well... they deserve to be left behind."

"I see," Ultra Magnus sighed. He ran his fingers across the Matrix model and stared hard at the memories captured on paper and encased in glass. "Very well," he spoke with the sound of a defeated soldier. "Begin preparations for depart-"

There would be no further communication between Perceptor and his commanding officer, Ultra Magnus. No more weapons were fired. No longer would scarred and crippled warriors fight over puddles of infected energon. Soundwave would no longer plan new schemes of re-establishing the Decepticon Empire as a universal threat. After an initial eruption of violent rage and blinding light, all was still and silent. Darkness had fallen, the result of a planetary meltdown and explosion.

Cybertron no longer existed.


	6. The Fight Begins

**CHAPTER SIX**

Roadbuster's crew mates had abandoned their respective regeneration chambers a few hours prior and retook their proper positions on the bridge; if a ship that small could technically _have _a bridge. "Prepare for descent," he announced. "Touchdown on Hoofum soil in six minutes."

Wreck-Gar thought back to all his fallen friends and silently recited a prayer in their memory. His fist gripped the handle of his reliable armor axe, finding comfort in its familiar feel. Strapped to a magnetic holding slab on his back, his infamous Decelerator laser rifle reflected the interior red lights automatically activated upon landing procedures. "Goodbye, yellow brick road."

Pipes quickly scanned the area below them to ascertain the locations of their intended targets. "Three Pretender Monster signatures are inside their base of operations, the other three are en route to join them." It was obvious to all aboard that they had been detected and Slog's forces were reuniting for battle. "I'm fairly certain we've been spotted."

"I don't doubt it," Roadbuster responded. "No need for the cloaking device then," he added while disengaging the device.

Grimlock and Wreck-Gar looked at each other as the ship continued its landing. Both had at one time been leaders of brave warriors, now both were alone and in need of closure. If that closure could be found by eliminating the evil that was Slog and his gang of killers, than both welcomed the opportunity to claim it. If the only peace they could find existed in the dark reality of their own demise, so be it. "For those about to rock," Wreck-Gar started, extending his hand out for the Dinobot to accept, "We salute you."

* * *

The battle plan was simple: do not allow the Pretender Monsters to merge into the super warrior Monstructor. And when the opportunity presented itself, eradicate them from existence. Roadbuster and his crew were outnumbered 4 to 6, but at first they were more than able to hold their own. Wreck-Gar and Grimlock locked up with two Monsters each, while Pipes ended up trading blows with Icepick. A few meters south of the main brawl found Slog alone with Roadbuster. The way it was meant to be.

"I've waited a long time for this," Roadbuster shouted as he landed a hard right to Slog's face. "Your game of madness is at an end."

Slog felt a warm stream of fluid trickle down his mouth-plate. "Is that so?" he snarled, landing a quick combination of punches of his own. "And who's going to end it? You and your collection of misfit toys?" He slashed across Roadbuster's chest with ferocious results. The diamond-steel alloy talons adorning his hands easily ripped through Roadbuster's torso, sending violent sparks shooting into the space between them. As the Autobot clasped his chest in pain and fell to one knee, Slog saw his chance to use his magnetic-repellor/attractor rifle and began to cause tremendous strain on the iron components nestled deep within his stunned opponent.

Wreck-Gar had begun to run into trouble of his own handling both Birdbrain and Bristleback. Despite being nearly invulnerable due to his uncanny ability to heal himself, the combined might and firepower of the evil Monsters was proving an insurmountable challenge. Birdbrain's powerful beak snapped one of Wreck-Gar's hands completely off, then quickly abandoned his Pretender shell and started beating him in the back of the head with his gun. As Bristleback cackled with glee while watching each blow take more and more fight out of the Junkion, Wreck-Gar reached for his cast-off hand and the weapon that was still held in its grasp. It was equipped with a decelerator laser that inhibited the flow of cerebral impulses on whomever it was used against. Little good it did collecting dust while he got beaten down. "Got anything to say while we kill you?" Bristleback asked.

"Yeah," Wreck-Gar struggled to say. "Don't make me angry... you wouldn't like me when I'm angry..."

Birdbrain cast a quick look of disbelief at his fallen target. "Angry?" he mocked. "We plan on making you dead!"


	7. Who Will Slay the Slayer?

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Scowl and Wildfly were having a much tougher time battling with the famed Grimlock. Scowl's duel-sonic disruptor gun seemingly had little to no effect on slowing down the Dinobot's rage. Wildfly was known as one of the most feared warriors to take flight, but his primary choice of combat was eliminated as a course of action after Grimlock's energo-sword grounded with little effort. "You'll pay for that with your life!" Wildfly proclaimed. Grimlock simply grunted, unimpressed, and continued his assault.

Pipes lifted Icepick up over his head and slammed him violently down across an arrangement of jagged rocks. No physical damage was evident on his frame, but having been picked up and dropped without much regard ignited a hidden sea of anger from deep within Icepick's mind. The loud and lyrical message of "Crazy Train" escaped from somewhere on Pipe's body and momentarily startled the Monster.

With a knowing smile brought on my expected victory, Pipes began to emit corrosive gasses from his hands onto Icepick's form. "Looks like this just isn't your day," he laughed.

A sudden burst of motion knocked Pipes backward several feet, a result of his adversary shedding his compromised outer shell. In a matter of seconds, the Pretender was on his feet in his non-threatening robot mode, aiming his very threatening fireball bazooka directly at the blue-colored Autobot. There was no time to react, no opportunity to seek shelter or improvise a counter-attack. "Funny," Icepick stated as several bursts of flame hit and ignited Pipes into a blinding inferno. "I was thinking the same thing about you."

* * *

"The tide of victory is flowing in our direction," Slog muttered to Roadbuster after witnessing Pipe's demise. "I shall honor your memory after you expire."

Roadbuster fought free from Slog's grip and threw him over his shoulder. With his sworn enemy down with his torso ripe for punishment, Roadbuster took two steps back in an attempt to steady himself and fired his shrapnel missile launcher. It was a direct hit and resulted in Slog's screams of agony shaking the ground. "This fight isn't finished yet," he stated.

Slog struggled to his feet and seemed to shake off most of the damage he had suffered. A look of shock fell on Roadbuster's face, as he was certain Slog had been rendered near inoperable. "It's finished," he coldly snapped, breaking off portions of his armor that had flowered open from the shrapnel blast. "You just haven't realized it yet." He shouted an inaudible command and suddenly each of the Pretenders that were still in their outer shells simultaneously shed them. Acting on cerebral impulses controlled by their robot forms, the creature shells recombined into whole and fully operational warriors. The Autobots were now even more outnumbered. As the monster shells jumped Roadbuster and his remaining soldiers, it freed up Slog and his team to gather near and combine into the killing machine, Monstructor.

After the giant had been formed, the monster shells returned to a virtual catatonic state of non-combat and remained still and silent. Wreck-Gar and Grimlock limped to Roadbuster's side in a final showing of solidarity. Behind them, Pipes body was slowly turning to liquid metal, creating an ultra hot puddle of his remains. Grimlock grew impatient and charged at Monstructor despite pleas from his comrades to remain in line. Using the very stars as energy, Monstructor fired off his solar-fission cannon and obliterated Grimlock in mid-step. Wreck-Gar followed Grimlock's lead and shared the same fate.

Left alone and depleted of ammunition, Roadbuster sized up his opponent and quickly attempted to formulate a plan of survival. It was rare for Monstructor to speak, and history recorded few examples leading many to think him incapable of speech. But Roadblock learned, then and there, that the bringer of death could indeed speak when he so chose. The giant tossed down his cannon and cast a look of pure chaos at his lone remaining foe. "I am going to kill you... slowly."

* * *

The image in the view screen sent horror racing through all of their circuits. Thunderclash rose slowly from his captain's chair and took four steps towards the picture they were all watching. He crept forward in silence. "By Primus," he said aloud. "Look at the carnage."

Chromia ripped her attention away from the image and once more tried to contact Ultra Magnus on Cybertron. And once more all she received was static, almost as if the call continued to fall on deaf ears. "Still unable to reach Command," she reported.

"He doesn't stand a chance against that demon on his own," Clamp Down stated, echoing the thoughts of the entire crew. "We have to do something, and it better be quick!"

Roulette had emerged from her station in engineering and joined her teammates. At first she was unable to speak, her mind having difficulty comprehending the damage before her. She turned to Clamp Down and then to Chromia, yet neither offered any comfort.

"Permission to engage?" Nightracer asked with fierce anticipation. Despite being a Decepticon for most of her existence, she had found herself agreeing more and more with certain aspects of Autobot philosophy. Although she would never verbally rebuke her ways or ideals, they had internally been undergoing a change for quite some time. The one aspect of Autobot teachings that she had particularly bonded with was that no matter the aspect of danger or eminent defeat, you never abandon a fellow Autobot. And for all her past crimes and petty thievery, she saw Roadbuster as an ally in need. Perhaps she realized that perhaps in another time and place, it could have been her staring up at her own executioner. "Captain?"

Thunderclash experienced a series of flashbacks, the most prominent being images of Dag, the previous showcase of Monstructor's destructive abilities. For a brief moment, he considered halting the order to attack, reasoning he had been unable to reach Ultra Magnus and gain proper approval. That brief pause immediately drowned the proud warrior in a sea of shame. He was eager to cleanse his conscience. "Divert all power from non-essential stations to weapons," he ordered. "Nightracer," he continued, "Blow that killer away."

* * *

Monstructor had reached out and grabbed Roadbuster seconds before the first of many laser clusters connected with his back. Pain raced through the giant's body, causing him to instinctively release Roadbuster and turn to face his attacker. Thunderclash's ship was much larger than Monstructor but its weapons were still inferior upon comparison. The shots landed caused minimal structural damage and managed to weaken his overall stability, but such an all-inclusive attack drained the ship's energy tremendously. Its' shields were operating at minimal strength after unloading the massive amount of firepower. "We won't be able to withstand a second hit!" Chromia yelled.

Monstructor reacquired his fission cannon and through an internal targeting program, isolated the primary engines and fired. Immediately following being hit, the ships automatic red alert started blaring, signaling the damage sustained was terminal. It was considered a miracle the ship still functioned at all.

Watching the battle rage on with strained optics and over-stressed joints, Roadbuster took the opportunity afforded him and raced to where Wreck-Gar's hand and weapon rested. He had enough time for one shot with no error. Aiming the still charged decelerator laser directly at the gestalt's head, Roadbuster pulled the trigger and waited.

Monstructor absorbed the blow and instantly came to what appeared to be a complete stop, an obvious halt in his cerebral impulses. The weapon had performed the duty it was created for and lit a beacon of hope. Roadbuster collapsed from the fatigue but prior to entering stasis lock, pondered what more-if anything-could be done.


	8. The Final Cost

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

"All hands abandon ship!" Thunderclash announced. "I repeat, all hands abandon ship!"

Clamp Down oversaw the evacuation process while Nightracer and Roulette hurried to their pre-assigned escape pods. Sounds of hurried footsteps mixed with the unmistakable whispers of uncertainty while the alarm continued to echo throughout the ship. History would later record that of the twenty-six crew members, all but one survived the ordeal.

Chromia stood at the door exiting the bridge and waited for Thunderclash to join her. After a few moments of observing his stance, she realized he would not be following her. Still, despite understanding his reasons, she still made an attempt to persuade him. "You're needed," she said, already accepting what was about to happen. "You don't have to do this."

Thunderclash turned to his long time friend and most tenured officer. He offered up a defiant smile and took hold of the ship's navigational controls. "The captain stays with his ship," he smoothly stated. His fingers quickly entered in a new course, one that would lead the heavily damaged ship directly into Monstructor's handicapped frame. A slight crackle could be heard in his tone as he addressed Chromia for the final time. "You better get going," he said, never taking his optics away from the screen. "Not much time left."

Chromia felt a surge of emotion beginning to overtake her. Rarely had she seen such bravery in the face of certain death. "It's been an honor to serve with you," she stated.

"Chromia," Thunderclash responded, himself fighting off emotions of the soul. "The honor was all... mine."

* * *

The ship crashed into Monstructor, destroying both the angel and the demon it struck. It was a mighty explosion with debris launched in every direction as far as the eye could see. Fragments of the ship and of the individual Pretender Monsters were hard to salvage, although a few scraps were recovered. In a tasty morsel of justice, a recently re-awakened Roadbuster cast a look down at his feet and found the head of Slog. It was badly damaged and missing nearly half of its original size. The one remaining optic still showed a dim light, an obvious sign of impending death. Roadbuster bent over and tore the optic from its compartment, extinguishing the final flicker of life still pulsing through Slog's remains. The Autobot commando paused to take in the recent events and admired the courage Thunderclash had shown in making the ultimate sacrifice; and also offered thanks to all others that had fallen in recent times. Before walking away from the battle, Roadbuster again bent over and scooped up what was left of his once sworn-enemy.

Not since the Underbase possessed Starscream and the coming of Unicron had one being caused so many lives to be lost as Monstructor. The recent body count which started on Dag and found its way onto Hoofum's soil was finally halted. An absolute sacrifice made by one so that many may continue on. In the universe, there remain countless giants left unchecked; their horrendous and barbaric actions thrive unchallenged. But for a small corner of creation, at least for the time being, their dragon had finally been slain.

No one may ever know how many Autobots and Decepticons were still dwelling on Cybertron when it exploded. Beings from both factions departed and returned in secret on a seemingly regular basis, and the number of Transformers involved in various long-range special missions only helped to cloud the actual total of lives lost. Blame was tossed back and forth between any and all who bothered to debate; for many however, a silent acceptance was the majority reaction. Sadly, the destruction of their home world only proved to be the catalyst for reinforced hostilities and brutal acts of violence on a much grander scale. With Cybertron gone, so too was whatever power the Peace Treaty once held.

**Conclusion**

Slog's mangled remains, now shaped into a makeshift amulet, swung from a chain around Roadbuster's neck. As he walked through the doors of The Diaclone, he noticed a familiar face sitting at a corner table in the back. Being waved over, he decided to go join his inviter. "Been a while," Outback stated. "What've you been up to?" It was a question that Outback already knew the answer to, but felt it would be a good conversation starter.

Roadbuster took a seat and caught a server's attention, ordering himself a much needed energon mug. "This and that," he answered, checking out their immediate surroundings to ensure there wouldn't be any surprise trouble popping up.

"An Autobot of few words, as always," Outback replied. The master of surviving rough environments had only recently returned from a special mission to the planet Charr. A small group of displaced Autobots had been looking into settling a colony on its soil.

Roadbuster took a swig from his drink and felt its immediate effects. "What about you?"

Outback smiled and kicked his feet up on the table between them. "Same old, same old." They both couldn't help but grin at the short exchange. Secrecy was alive and well in the Autobot ranks, despite the monumental tragedies that had happened recently. "The 'ell is that you're wearing?"

"This?" Roadbuster asked, knowing full well Outback was wondering about the amulet. "Just a little souvenir I picked up while on my latest outing."

Outback detected that there was more to this souvenir than his larger friend was letting on, but he decided against probing him further. He chose to accept the explanation. "You? With a keepsake?"

Roadbuster took another swig from his energon mug and waived for the server to bring another. His joints ached and a slight dripping of fluid on his left side began to amass a small puddle at his feet. The smell of death and destruction was strong on his body, almost to the point of making himself and others nearby nauseas. Still, he realized that it was all part of the life he had chosen. It was, after all, the way of the beast. "Something like that," he answered.

**The End.**


End file.
